Shard
by SmileyyMonsterr
Summary: This is not a love story. Nothing is solved at the end of this. Nothing has changed. He is just as confused as always, but she had made him wonder. She had given him hope. Oh, he killed her, of course. A JTHM One-Shot.


_Author's Note: I wrote this story four years ago and posted it on a different account. I'm re-posting it on my current account because I can't remember the password or ANYTHING for that old account. Enjoy. I will post a new JTHM FanFic soon, MAYBE. The next one I post, unlike Shard and Gin Blossom, will have chapters instead of just being a one-shot._

Him

Nobody cares nobody cares nobody cares. I don't belong in this world, I know that. I just don't. I don't belong in heaven, obviously, but I don't belong in hell either. Then where do I belong? Where? Where?

As I do often, I stood motionless in front of the mirror. Just standing there. Standing there until I thought there was no glass separating me from that room I saw on the other side. I think everything would be different there. Maybe in that world, there would be people who I would actually like. Maybe there would be a girl I would not be disgusted to touch. After I convince myself that all I have to do is step through the looking glass and I'd be in the place I belong, I reach out my hand. But of course, it only hits against the cold glass of the mirror.

This time, unlike all the other times, tears sprung to my eyes. Like I once told Nail Bunny, I now told Reverend Meat: "I am not happy." But now I wonder... maybe I'm more than "not happy". Maybe I'm sad. Sadness. I don't belong here.

I don't belong here. I don't belong here.

_Fuck._

I'm going to go kill someone.

Her

I watched today as the images on the television screen flicked past in a colorful blur. Flick. Flick. Flick. All I see on the news is mass murders, is horrible things. Rape. Kidnapping.

I hate this world. Oh, how I hate it. It's so terrible. It seems that people cry out to a God, a God they think might listen, crying out. Crying out. "Help us understand!" They scream. They ask why, God, why? We're suffering so much! Why, God! We're suffering! And God calmly whispers back "I don't care."

I am disgusted with this horrible, filthy world. I know that I do not deserve something better. But I just want out of this world. I held that gun against my head again today. But, as always, I didn't pull the trigger. I can't tell if I am too brave or too weak to do it, and that frustrates me. I wish someone would do it for me. A saint, or my own personal angel of suicide. But I know there is no one out there who exists like that.

_Crud._

I need a walk.

Him

I walked slowly, my head bent and my hands in my pockets. Looking. Looking at all the filthy humans around me, living their pathetic, pointless lives.

That girl was so beautiful. I bet her insides did not match her outsides. I almost chose her. But no. I wasn't in the mood for speaking, for once. I wasn't in the mood to make her realize that I was simply making her insides match her outsides. I just needed to vent. I just needed to look into their eyes for something when they died. I don't know what I was looking for, but I knew it wouldn't be in that pretty girl's eyes. The thing I was looking for wouldn't be in her blind, blind eyes.

I stopped. I didn't know who to choose. I supposed it would have to be at random, since everyone one of these... people were deserving of what I offered them. Since every one of these people's eyes were blind. I covered my eyes with one hand. I stretched out my other arm. At the end of my arm was one long pointing finger. I then began to spin around.

Her

I walked slowly, my head bent and my hands in my sweater pockets. Ignoring. Trying to ignore the ugly people all around me.

I didn't feel like seeing people pass by, oblivious to everything. Oblivious to the beauty of this world. Oblivious to the things they could do themselves to stop the horrors all around them. I didn't want to see the pain. The pain I knew would be there. In their eyes. They probably didn't know they were in pain, that they were feeling something that wasn't supposed to be there, but I saw it, in their eyes. In their dull, dull eyes. I saw the emptiness. These people in this world. I was just like them, and I guess that's was another reason I did not want to look at them. I did not want to be reminded of my own weakness. Maybe the pain I saw in their eyes was just a reflection of the pain that was in my own.

I sighed, and closed my eyes as I walked. I was about to open them when something poked me in the eye. Was it a tree limb or something? I backed away, and opened my eyes. A young man who was like five inches taller than me with a cool shirt and long gloves was pointing at me. One hand covered his eyes.

Him

My hand hit against something- or someone. I smiled despite myself and uncovered my eyes. It was a girl, and average pathetic person. She wasn't especially pretty. Her outsides were really close to matching her insides. She was looking at me with those blind, blind eyes. With those judging, judging eyes. I knew she was judging me. I knew she had to be judging me. In just a second, she would call me a fag. She would call me a scrawny fag and she would laugh. And then I would take her to my home, and she'll be sorry for judging me. She'll be sorry she existed, she'd be sorry she was even born as a human.

I smiled at her with jagged teeth and said, "You will do, I suppose," and I lunged at her, hitting her in the back of the head with one practiced hand.

Her

It hurt. There was pain, and it hurt. Right there, in the back of my head, where that man had hit me. There was something cold around my wrists. There was something cold around my ankles. There was something cold around my waist. There was something cold around my neck. I didn't want to open my eyes. I wanted to open my eyes. All at the same time. I didn't know what to do. I was confusing myself. Fright was burning inside my brain and gut. But excitement and a weird, twisted gladness filled my heart.

This is it. This was going to be my escape from this life.

"Are you awake yet?" A low, slightly impatient voice asked. Maybe he was asking someone else. Maybe not. I couldn't assume that there was more people that he was going to kill. I couldn't assume that there _wasn't_ more people that he was going to kill. Or killed. I opened my eyes.

Him

I strapped her to the same contraption I had strapped that interesting man Edgar into so long ago. Maybe it hadn't been so long ago. It seemed like it had only happened yesterday. But at the same time it also felt like it had happened years and years and years ago.

She was unconscious for quite a while, and at first I thought I had hit her too hard. Maybe she was in a coma. Maybe she wouldn't wake up and I wouldn't be able to look for the thing I was searching for. I didn't know what I was searching for. But I knew I wouldn't get it if the girl didn't wake up. She stirred slightly, but did not open her eyes.

"Are you awake yet?" I asked in a low, slightly impatient voice. She opened her eyes, and took me in quickly.

"Are you going to kill me?" She asked. I was surprised by her tone of voice. She didn't act shocked, or scared, or surprised, which were the usual reactions to find oneself strapped into a torture device with knives and blades hanging at the ready all around oneself. She actual sounded weary, as if she had been expecting this. And a little... hopeful?

Her

I can't say that I was totally surprised by finding myself in this position. I guess I sort of expected it. I must have jinxed myself. All those times I held that gun to my head, all those times I cried myself to sleep, begging God to just take me now. No, I didn't even want acceptance into heaven, just to get me out of this world and put me... somewhere else. I had jinxed myself, and I was getting what I had asked for.

I thought that I would panic and realize how precious life was. But I didn't. I felt relieved. I felt the way a soldier in the battlefield must feel when they are informed that they would be shipped home in victory if they won the last battle. Just one last battle, and the war would be over. I would be... home. I almost wanted to say, "Well, finally."

Him

"That's obvious, isn't it?" I said, widening my eyes and tilting my head to one side. I had one hand up under my chin. I regarded her with a thoughtful expression on my face. As I had before with Edgar, I decided to ask her a question I really didn't expect an answer for. A question that I hoped would make them think. A question I hoped would make them realize how terrible they were. How terrible the world was. I finally settled on a question that had been nagging at me for quite a while. "Why are humans so special?" She looked at me.

"What do you mean by that?" She asked calmly.

"Let me elaborate," I replied, leaning against the wall with one arm out, my ankles crossed. "Humans kill animals to eat and for other things humans could go without. What makes them better than these animals that they are killing? What makes them so great that it's right for them to kill these animals, but it's wrong for these animals to kill them?" She didn't looked phased.

"Why, indeed?" She finally sighed, bowing her head. Tears were running down her cheeks. Ha. So the full reality of where she was and what I was going to do had hit her. I wasn't going to get anything out of her, it seemed. I sighed internally, and my hand twitched near the switch that would end her life in a explosion of blood and splintered bones.

Her

His question surprised me. But not enough to stop me from answering it.

"Why, indeed?" I began. He was reaching out for something with one absurdly long and thin arm, but he stopped when he heard me continue speaking. He looked at me with his odd, wide, dark dark eyes. "Is it because humans can talk? Is it because their technology is great? Is it because they simply think they're better? I think the answer to this question at one point long ago would be that humans can love. But nowadays, I am not so sure. Love is so sparse. Love is so hard to find. Everything is so fake. Everything is so untrue. I know nobody loves you, right? Is that why you do these things? You do this because you are lonely?" His face grew pale. I could not tell if he was angry or very, very sad. "You need to kill because we don't love you? Because you need to hate people first before they can hate you? Huh?"

His eye twitched and he said: "Shut up."

Him

_Because nobody loved me. _Is that why I did the things I did? Her questions that sounded more like statements. More like accusations. Stung me. Why did I do these things. I could hear Mr. Fuck and Psycho Dough Boys' voices echoing in my head. I couldn't remember any exact words, or even remember what their voices sounded like, exactly, but I suppose that was a good thing. I remembered the wall vividly though. That bright crimson wall whispering for blood, blood, more blood.

I did it because they told me to. I did it because the wall was hungry. I did it because I wasn't myself. I did it because something unknown was controlling me. But then Mr. Satan told me what I was. I was nothing but a flusher- I was nothing but crap. I couldn't go to heaven. I couldn't go to hell. I had to come back to life. I had to come back.

I wasn't being controlled now though. The monster from the wall was gone- loose, I guess. Mr. Fuck and Psycho Dough Boy were gone too. I was in control. But I was still doing these things. Why? Why? _Why?_

"Shut up." I told her. But she wouldn't. She kept on talking. So calmly.

Talking to me smoothly, to me, her soon to be murderer. "Is it because you're all alone?" ..._Devi... _"Is it because you have no choice?" ... _I was a flusher..._

"Shut up." I said again, reaching up and clutching my head. It was beginning to throb. I hated this girl more than I hated the others. I hated her I hated her _I hated her._

Her

He told me to be quiet once again, but for some reason I couldn't stop. The words poured from my lips, honest yet questioning. Innocent, yet guilty. I saw pain in his eyes. But his pain was different than the others. His pain was more real. More... human. How could this be? He seemed to hate people. But he seemed more real, more human than all the rest. All the rest.

"Do you believe in God?" I asked. "In heaven? In hell? Do you think God at least loves you? Did your parents love you? Don't you have friends? Probably not. Do you want friends? Do you want children some day? Do you-"

There was a sudden horrible pain in my abdomen. My eyes blurred red. His face was right up close to mine. I looked down. In one blood splattered hand he held a knife. In the other he held my intestines. Blood. So much blood. I gasped. I hadn't realized I was crying until I began to cry harder. But I was smiling. "Thank you. You don't know how much this means to me. Thank you. You deserve to be loved-"

"Shut up."

"You deserve a different world."

"Shut up!" His hand moved in a flash. There was a spurt of blood. More pain.

Him

I could have simply used the device, but I wanted to take her life with my own hands. I hated her I hated her I hated her. So very much, I hated her. She would not shut up.

And now she was saying thank you over and over again. "I'm sorry." She finally spluttered. Trickles of blood dripped over her thin lips and down her chin, where it dribbled onto the floor below. Blood gushed out of her mouth. I was surprised she did not choke. Surprised she was not drowning. "I'm sorry I'm talking so much. It's just that I've been wanting out of this world. I couldn't do it myself. Maybe I was too weak."

I don't know what made me say what I said next. I said: "Or maybe you were strong enough not to do it." She cried harder. Blood was now mixing with her salty tears. The veins in her eyes must have popped. She was going to start having spasms soon. She was getting hysterical.

Her

What he said made me cry harder than ever. I was on the verge of hysterics. I could feel his knife in me. I never knew there could be pain this bad, this intense. I suddenly felt very afraid.

"You're like my own personal patron saint of denial and death. I'm finally getting out of this world. I'm finally going..." I let out a wet laugh. Blood spewed from my lips and sprinkled down on the man's face. Staining it. He stared up at my eyes. Everything was getting more blurry and more blurry. "I'm a little afraid. Do you... do you believe in heaven and hell?"

I was suddenly glad for this person. Glad he existed. Glad he was in my life this way. This was the end for me. I knew.

Why are humans so special? Because they can love. Maybe even because there was a heaven or hell, a God and a devil for them. I needed to know if this man thought this. I know I barely knew him, I know that. But suddenly his opinion mattered. It did. Why are humans so special? Because humans can love... or could love, in the past.

Him

The desperation, the hope, the fear in her voice made me want to vomit. I suddenly felt dread for this girl. She would be disappointed with heaven. She would be disappointed with the real hell. I couldn't tell her. I couldn't tell her the truth. That hell was just like this. That heaven was not really all that it was cut out to be. I couldn't tell her because, somehow, I had become her hero. I had become something very important to her. Something vital. Something necessary. It made me want to cry, knowing the truth and knowing I couldn't possibly tell her.

"I believe in heaven and hell, but I'm still not sure if there is a God or a devil." I said slowly. Slight confusion crossed her features, but faded away an instant later. She gave me a very bloody, very red smile.

"Thank you." She said. She closed her eyes slowly, and left them closed for a few seconds, then opened them. She looked at me. She looked anxious. The sort of feeling someone gets when they are about to go on quite a long journey, and are excited about it, yes, but nervous about leaving a familiar place for an unknown one. That was the look she had. It was weird.

Her

The last thing I saw in that world was his face, just as confused and frustrated as me. His face splattered with my own crimson blood. He had done the thing I had been too weak to do myself. Or brave enough not to do.

The last thing I saw was my personal little angel's face, and then my flame was extinguished.

"Thank you..." I said one last time.

And then I suppose I died.

Him

She died. It was nothing extravagant, just one last weak breath, one last spurt of blood, and then she was simply a soulless doll. But I had seen something different in her eyes. Something different. Maybe Edgar had had that look. Maybe. I didn't know. He had been killed by the contraption, not by my hands. Plus, he had glasses on. Maybe Edgar had had that look in his eyes.

What I had seen there in her eyes... sparkle, a glisten, a reflection. A reflection of something greater. Something much bigger than just this girl whose name I did not know, and who probably didn't even know my name. A reflection... perhaps, from the other side of the mirror. A reflection of the world on the other side of the glass.

Maybe there was something more than a heaven, and a hell. Maybe this girl got the world she belonged in. Maybe Edgar got the world he belonged in. And maybe one day, I'd get the world I belong in too.

But for now I'll clean up her blood, then go and look in the mirror. I'll look, standing motionless, until I convince myself that there is nothing separating myself form the world I see on the other side. Maybe in that world there would be people I would like. Maybe, in that world, Edgar and that girl were waiting for me. And I'll reach out a single shaking hand, reach out for that world I belong in... And of course, my hand will hit only glass.

End


End file.
